errors; I to him?" And if you can be brought to accept Him, to trust in him, to love him, to live for him, you will find Christianity is not a penance. The only thing that one feels when one urges these things on the reader is, "You are pressing upon me this religion; and the very fact that you so press it proves, that it must be a very painful and nauseous thing—something that human nature recoils from. Do not retain that impression. I am only trying to dislodge from your mind misconceptions. and to awaken within you a sense of your responsibility to God. Instead of being a nauseous thing, it is sweeter than honey from the honey-comb. Instead of finding life a penance after you have become a Christian, you will find it a pleasure. All its losses will be light, its trials will be smoothed, its heaviest burdens will be removed, and in life below you will taste the earnest of the sweet fruits that are to be gathered from the tree of life that grows above. And when life's long journey is finished, and the valley of the shadow of death opens out its dark and its lengthy vista, you will find that that valley has been trodden by holy feet before you — that He has left in its darkest place a joyous lamp; and when you have descended into its blackest depths, it will only be to begin the joyous ascent of the mount, that brings you where your God is, because Christ's God; and where your Father is, because Christ's Father. - WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED? "Sirs, what must I do to be saved? And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house."-Acrs xvi. 30, 31. PAUL and Silas were cast into prison, because they had been the means of converting Lydia to the gospel of Christ. In the darkness and silence of night, and within the walls of the cold dungeon, these prisoners were so little overwhelmed by the circumstances in which they were, that in their imprisonment they saw reason for praise, and in their sufferings ground for joyous gratitude and thanksgiving unto God. Rays of glory can penetrate prison-walls, gratitude can bud in prisoners' hearts, and no bars, or bolts, or doors, can exclude God. Wherever the regenerated heart beats, there is a listening ear to hear its petitions; wherever the saint of God suffers, there the Lord of glory is present to sympathize with him. Because these Christians thus felt, they sang praises at midnight, and the prisoners in the rest of the cells heard them. Suddenly ,there was an earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken, and immediately all the doors were opened, and every one's bands loosed; and the keeper of the prison awaking out of his sleep, and seeing the prison-doors open, drew out his sword, and would have killed himself, supposing that the prisoners had fled; but Paul cried with a loud voice, saying, Do thyself no harm; for we are all here. Then he called for a light, and sprang in, and came trembling, and fell down. before Paul and Silas, and brought them out, and said, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved? And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house." What could have induced the jailor amidst these circumstances to ask the, to him, strange question, What must I do to be saved? Why did he so tremble? Why did he seem to dread a punishment which he prayed he might escape, and apply to Paul and Silas to interfere to give him that escape? No doubt earthly fears mingled with others in the mind of the jailor. The circumstances amid which he was placed were enough to alarm a more courageous spirit; but the question itself, "What must I do to be saved?" cannot have originated from a mere sense of imminent peril to his body, but from some deep, inward, spiritual conviction of danger threatening his soul, and a rising anxiety, deep and solemn, to escape that everlasting peril which his conscience now feared and dreaded. He saw the earthquake had retired to rest, the walls of the prison still erect, the prisoners in their cells, and Paul and Silas so far from being disposed to escape, standing and presenting themselves, with a calmness that indicated the noblest heroism in the midst of so awakening and startling occurrences, and entreating, "Do thyself no harm; for we are all here:" what, then, can have made the jailor so alarmed? Do the circumstances warrant the interpretation that all he asked was merely, How shall I escape the punishment which I deserve from my royal master or superior at Philippi? That he had fears, that he was alarmed, is obvious from the narrative; but that he had any reason to dread punishment because an earthquake had shaken the walls, or because a mysterious hand had penetrated the prison, and fused by its touch the chains that fettered every limb, and left every prisoner free, because of what he had no control over, and could neither avert nor modify, is altogether improbable, not to say absurd. It is plain, then, that the jailer's fear arose from something more than the dread of punishment on earth. It is obvious that circumstances had occurred, whatever they were, that had aroused his conscience, and had touched his heart; that a ray from eternity had flashed upon his soul, and suggested to him a question he never thought of asking before, the full and living importance of which he felt then for the first time, "What must I do to be saved?" If this question arose from spiritual influence, what was it, as far as the narrative can show us, that awoke such a conviction in the jailer's mind, or such a fear in the jailer's conscience? He heard songs of praises where he heard only blaspheming and cursing before; he saw men praying, where men before had abjured all sense of the presence of, and all feeling of responsibility to, God; and the sight of prisoners that sang in chains and prayed in a prison made an impression upon the man that there must be something great in this detested Christianity, and urged him, probably, to inquire whether there was any possibility of his reaching the peace that could make him sing, and feel that sense of spiritual want, and appreciate that divine pledge of supply, that would prompt him also to pray. Superadded to all this was the perfect composure of these two prisoners, who had, apparently, everything to fear, nothing to hope for; a spectacle that struck the jailer with the thought that they must have some deep spring of peace that he had not; and cherish hopes, and joys, and relationships, and affinities, with an unseen power that he knew nothing of: and all combined struck an impression on his heart so deep, so penetrating, that it wrung from him in the midst of its bewilderment and agony, the anxious question, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" There is no spot where Christian character does not tell. A Christian is in a jail, he sees no sanctifying power go forth from him, yet an unseen, but real virtue may be penetrating every cell, and making converts to the gospel out of the refuse of mankind. The very meaning of coming to a sanctuary is to carry to the shop, the workhouse, the parlour, the library, the prison, if needs be, wherever God places us, that consistency of conduct, tenderness of conscience, and love of what is true, beautiful, and just, which will leave holy and useful impressions around, before, and behind. Every man, without exception, whether in a prison or palace, sends forth influence. Just as sure as the heart at its every beat sends the blood to the extremities of the body, so the moral heart, at its every pulse, always and everywhere, sends out a moral and spiritual influence. Not a mother can walk in her household without unconsciously influencing the temper and shaping the character of her offspring; not a |